questionsfour

smoke and mirrors
silver spoon spree
life in the shadows
of the girl she used to be
when did this start?
how?
how do you let slip?
why does his smile
flash
flash before her eyes?
why do visions of his and
the wave of his half open palm
ushering out his abuse
make her ache?
and is it sad she's still happy
or happy she's not sad?

i am mildly

obsessed with melty beads and seeing what new creations i can come up with for necklaces and the like. today's creation for your viewing pleasure:



it is most assuredly not my best work and looks a bit like a baseball diamond. but nonetheless. go mets? and for the record: i do not wear purple polo shirts by choice. oh the hazards of job-mandated-wardrobes.

mirror, mirror

on the floor. whose the most unidentifiable of them all?

sometimes she acts like she's seventeen again. like she'd do anything to herself on the outside to kill the pain on the inside. like she hasn't already learned the lesson a thousand times. that no matter what she does under the cover of night, the sun will rise bright and piercing and make it burn more in the morning.

i am

many things. but among those many things. i am. enjoying my life to the max. i am a new dress. that looks damn good. i am early morning walks. to kiss the old man who died this week. the one i waved hello to every morning on my way to work. i am a sip of budweiser in his honor.

i am gearing up: for city life. for dressing like i want to. wigs. leggings. boots with socks that stick out. homemade jewelry. seeing bands every other night. being a few blocks from you. and your dog. and your kitchen. and your bed. and your movie collection. an apartment with the cousin in the heart of oak-eezy. for dancing all night. for feeling beautiful. for pbr. and tattoos. for a job that means something to me. and making cookies to pass out to people that ask for change. for thrift store t-shirts and new and used records. for discovering. and not feeling guilty. for knowing more of You in the heart of suffering. for living and breathing and loving every minute of this life.

i just got

schooled at yo-yo by an eleven year old.

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i'm making a make-shift will. not because i think i'm going to die, but because if i do i would want the people i love to have the pieces of me that i picked for them. my cousin rory and i have the uncanny ability to communicate with little or no words. after a couple of drinks the other night i started this conversation by saying "if i die, i want you to have..." she didn't really flinch, but asked me to please not die anytime soon. she promised she would keep a record of the things certain people get. recently i've been adding to the list by simply saying "so and so gets such and such." she just nods and points to her dome as if to say "got it." i figure i'll start writing it down soon though, because she has many important things to keep in that pretty little head of hers and i don't want to become a burden.

shredded

my little heart is torn up today. in tiny strips that resemble scraps of newspaper. they're littered with fragments of words. spoken and not. promises kept and broken. pieces of black and white photographs of moments burned in. sage advice. holy texts. lies. and truth. i have half a mind to put them out on the porch and let today's cool breezes carry them away. they would be of better use to someone feeling the same things than they are to me at this moment. but instead i frantically try to gather them off the livingroom floor. out from under the sofa. from atop the bookshelf. and behind my favorite dress hanging in the closet. i'd hot glue them back together. but i am out of glue sticks. and out of time. and out of hope for my present situation. tomorrow may look brighter. but today is torture.

what i like about you

.you know yourself
.you don't compromise that for anything
.you hate fast food and cigarettes
.you make me want to be a better person
.your eyes sparkle. always.
.you do thoughtful things even when you don't think i'm watching
.you make me laugh
.you make me uncomfortable
.my brains don't intimidate you
.you're cheeky as all get out
.you love your friends and you tell them so
.you don't complain. even when you could
.you let me explore your world. and your tattoos
.you play with your hair when you're thinking
.and smell mine all the time
.you keep me guessing
.but you say what you mean
.people are drawn to you
.but you pick me out of the crowd
.and you make magic happen when you touch a drum set
.or a guitar
.or a piano
.or me